Amore (19 page)

“Isn’t that extreme? The boys are fine with me.”

“Not anymore,” she informed him. “You’re there working, distracted, meeting with people like Santo!”

“Wait, what does Santo have to do with this? He wasn’t even there today,” Giovanni said.

“That’s not the point. When you are working it’s not a place for kids. I’ve decided. They will not be with you when you are working!”

“You decided?” Giovanni asked.

“If you can’t be bothered to keep your eyes on your son, then you can’t be bothered period! Besides you don’t always take your boys. You take Gino. Do you know Eve comes to me crying when you close the door and keep her out?”

Giovanni narrowed his eyes on her. “Don’t scold me.”

“When it comes to my children I will have this discussion,” she said. Gino lifted his head from her shoulder and began to whine. She rubbed his back. “You send Nico in to tell me our child was hurt. Call a doctor, and then show up an hour and a half later to ask if he’s okay. It’s ridiculous to think I wouldn’t be upset. I’m sick of this, Giovanni.”

“Sick of what? Me being the man who has to juggle time with my business and my kids, because their mother is too damn consumed with playing with fabric to be of any use!” he shouted.

The accusation fileted her. Not only was it not fair, nor true, but she had spent the entire day beating herself up over not inviting him to her staff party. Marietta was right. She should be able to enjoy her independence without guilt. It was evident her husband didn’t burden himself with the emotion. She rolled her eyes and continued to pace.

“Nothing to say?” he challenged her. Now he was ready for the argument. When he first arrived she could tell he struggled with an explanation. If she took the bait he’d turn it into some stupid argument about her working. Those days were over. They agreed the company was part of their lives and she’d return to it.

“It’s not going to work. You are not going to turn this around on me. You were distracted, and my baby was hurt.”

“Our baby. Our son,” he addressed her without raising his voice.

“You know what I mean,” she shook her head. “Gio, please. You have to be the same for all of them. They love you equally.”

“Wait a minute. Are you accusing me of loving one child more than another? First I’m a bad father because I don’t discipline Gino, now I only favor Gino? Any other failures at fatherhood I show know about?”

“No! I only meant—”

“I made a mistake. I turned my head for a moment and he was hurt. How could you think I’d want that to happen?” he asked. “I love all my children equally. But like any parent I see the potential and strengths in them. Maybe I could handle Gino differently, but this is new to me, Bella. I’m more of a father to them all than mine ever was to me!”

“I know, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“It’s not about my fucking feelings! It’s about you thinking I’m capable of not caring that my son was hurt!”

“Why are you shouting at me?” she asked.

“Because you’re pissing me off! This was an accident. I apologized.”

“No you did not!”

“I did,” he said. He then thought on it. He wiped his hand down his face and groaned deep in his throat. Then leveled his gaze on her. “I’m sorry he was hurt and I didn’t come sooner, Bella. Now don’t you think I’m owed an apology?” he teased her with a smile. It wasn’t going to work. He was not going to charm his way out of this.

Mirabella shook her head in refusal.

Giovanni threw his hands up in defeat. Her heart softened. He was right. To accuse him of being a bad father was extreme. He was far from it. Only she knew of the nights he would leave their bed to go and check on their little boys. And how worried he was when Gino developed a little slower than Gianni the first months of his life. Gino almost died. Giovanni was always sensitive to that fact.

She walked over to the bed and put her son down in the center. She positioned the pillows so that he wouldn’t roll off. When she stood upright Giovanni was right behind her. He folded his arms around her.

“Bella, don’t be angry with me. You know I hate disappointing you.” She tried to shrug him off but he was too insistent. He put his chin on her shoulder. He stared down at their sleeping son.

“I love my
bambini
the same,” he repeated. “Gino is the most adventurous of them. He loves life. I think it’s because he struggled to be born. I see it in him and I want to encourage it. My father never did with me. Do you understand?”

She turned around and looked in his eyes. She wasn’t blinded any more. She knew her husband’s strengths and his weaknesses. “If he was hurt would you want me to send one of your men down the hall to tell you?”

“Never.”

“Okay. I’m sorry for my accusations. I get so scared when it comes to the kids. They’re the best of us, Gio, but the most vulnerable. I panicked when he came to me holding his wrist. And when you didn’t come I—” her voice choked with emotion.

He kissed her softly. She blinked away fresh tears and hugged his neck. She felt sane again. He kissed the side of her face. He kissed her neck. He caressed her back.

“Woman, you sound like my mother not my wife,” he chuckled. “Give your man a break once and a while, and not assume the worst in him.”

“I love you.” She pressed her face to his chest. The truth was she hated arguing with him, even when he was wrong. And in the end, every fight was a lesson for them both. He ran his hand down her back. She pushed out of his arms and moved around him before he got more amorous. She needed to dress and tell him about her dinner plans. Before she could speak he did.

“I came upstairs to tell you that I have business to tend to. I won’t be here for dinner,” he said.

“Oh? Okay. You sure?” she asked.

“I’ll try not to be out late,” he smiled.

“Uhm, well I have an idea. I think maybe I should have dinner with my staff tonight. At Fabiana’s.”

Giovanni frowned. “Why there?”

“I haven’t been ‘there’,” she said with air quotes, “in months. They want to celebrate with me. And since you won’t be here for dinner I can meet with them and be home before you miss me.”

Giovanni dropped his hands in his pockets. “You had this planned didn’t you?”

She chuckled. “Confession time. I planned it with the girls. Yes.”

“Am I invited?” he asked.

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because it’s the first I’m hearing of it. If I were invited you would have told me sooner,” he said.

“You don’t want to come—”

“I do,” he insisted. “I could have changed my plans. Be there for you.”

“Giovanni?” she gave a nervous chuckle and walked away. “It’s just us talking about dresses and shoes. Stuff you hate. You don’t want to come, trust me.”

“I can come afterwards, if you want,” he smiled.

“No,” she said.

“No?”

“I think I just want to meet with them. Don’t be upset. Why don’t you come tomorrow and do the photo shoot and interviews with me? That would make me happy.”

She avoided his eyes. She knew he stared at her while she unpacked their things.

“Okay,” she heard him say. She glanced back up at him. He smiled at her. Mirabella grew increasingly concerned. Nothing was ever that easy with her husband.

“Just okay?” she asked.

“We’re in Milano for you, Bella. This is your business. If you want to have a dinner with your team I understand. I accept it.”

“You continue to amaze me, Gio,” she said. She looked into his eyes trying to gauge his sincerity.

“What’s all this?” he asked about the boxes and packages all over the floor.

“Gifts from other designers. They sent them to wish me luck on my big day,” she said.

Giovanni knelt and picked up the satin Kimono. He shook it out and studied it. He turned it around and looked at the dragon. Mirabella chewed on her bottom lip. It was silly to think that Kei, after all this time, would have something to do with the gift. The man was in prison.

“I like this,” Giovanni said. “Wear it for me tonight?”

Mirabella’s smile changed. “I have something special to wear for you tonight. We won’t need that.”

“I like this,” he insisted.

“Better than me naked?” she teased.

He looked at the robe and then to her. He tossed it aside. “I’ll let you decide on what’s best.”

“Good boy,” she winked. He left. When the door closed Mirabella glanced to the kimono.

“It’s nothing,” she said to herself. She picked it up, put it in the trash, and then dusted her hands. She looked over to Gino, who was now sleeping on his back. She smiled. A family trip with just them, and not his entourage, is just what they both needed.

Bella Mafia

Applause greeted her. Mirabella wore a long flowing black dress. It wrapped around her curves and parted to the front with a seductive split. The plunging neckline revealed the contour of her breasts. The only accessory on her neck was a two-carat diamond solitaire that matched the studs in her ears. The moment she stepped through the doors of House of Fabiana’s the staff exploded with excitement.

Humbled she put both hands to her mouth. A sheen of tears blurred her vision. In Milano she employed a team of two hundred, and in Paris she had twice that number of people working for her. So many smiling faces from both operations welcomed her, she couldn’t possibly count them all.

“Is everyone here?” she asked in disbelief.

“Almost everyone,” Catalina replied.

“Go on, sis, don’t be shy,” Marietta pinched her on the side. Mirabella was giddy with excitement. The fashion house was decorated beautifully. Red balloons, red and gold silk streamers, and hundreds of red roses in crystal vases were posted on several pedestals. Large and tall red candles provided the lighting to the front of Fabiana’s. They collectively illuminated the stairs that circled and went up to the top floors. Every woman on her staff wore a red dress, and every man a red tie.

“Congratulations!” Shouted the crowd.

Marietta kissed her cheek. “Take a bow! This is all for you.”

The celebration left her speechless. She had prepared for crises, and last minute changes that any designer faced before the biggest day of their career. After all, most of the garments were cut in her design room at Melanzana, and hand stitched with specific instructions to her seamstresses. She hadn’t had time to touch and review each one. The Milano Fashion Gala would be the first time in her career that she’d introduce a new line and Fabiana wasn’t there to encourage and manage things. Even Teddy’s absence had filled her with doubt.

“Thank you, everyone!
Grazie, grazie!
” She stepped into the crowd and stopped to kiss many cheeks.

“Donna Mirabella, ben tornata!”
exclaimed one person.

“Congratulazioni, Mirabella!”
cheered another person
.

“Complimenti, Donna Battaglia!”

She hugged the necks of several. The crowd circling her became so overwhelmingly tight that Catalina and Marietta had to tell several people to step aside. Mirabella made a point to greet every single person who came before her. In the past two years she’d only met with a handful of her employees. The cheek kisses and hand squeezing was put to an end. Catalina pulled her through the praise by the elbow. Again Mirabella was struck by how elegant everything was. Music serenaded the guests from a violinist and a cello player. The back room was cleared out for tables with black cloths and red china.

“Upstairs, go, we’ll have our meeting first before we join the staff and eat,” Catalina whispered. Mirabella had to hold the sides of her dress to keep from stepping on the long hem as they climbed the stairs.

“You okay?” Marietta asked Shae. Together they climbed the stairs side by side. She’d given Shae one of the designer originals from her closet for the evening. Her best friend glammed the dress up with her trademark style. She’d put loose curls in her pink streaked hair, then styled the asymmetrical bob-cut with puffy thickness and bounce. Shae turned the heads of gay and straight men with her voluptuous hourglass figure in a t-shirt and jeans. But the dress she wore flattered her figure even more so, fitting snug around the hips and ass. Marietta dropped her tomboy jeans and big sweatshirts the moment she and Shae became friends. She learned from Shae how to love her body and take care of it. It was a lesson that influenced her choices in diet and exercise to that very day.